Colin is hurting. His pressure is down. Luka wants some blood on standby for a transfusion, and Susan grumbles that she'd be fine with that if they could actually get to the blood bank. Luka pouts prettily.
Gritchy Rapscallion #72 accosts Abby and demands his due, his lot in life, his destiny: crackers. "I haven't seen any," she replies, as if that's the most innocent, normal question-and-answer in the world. The man yelps that he is plenty prepared to whoop some booty if he doesn't get some saltines. Abby escapes by entering Adam's room.
Carter explains that he's sedating Adam. The kid's upper airway is coated with smallpox lesions, and Carter is afraid to crike him because if he cuts through those lesions, it'll clog Adam's breathing even further.
Meanwhile, Susan, Luka, and Gallant diagnose Colin with a pelvic hematoma. His veins are collapsing quickly. Abby bursts in, flagrantly contaminating Colin, whose machinery bleeps in protest. She demands Luka's aid in giving Adam a surgical airway. Luka refuses to help, because Colin's innards are bathed in a sea of his own blood, so it's not quite the best time to ditch him. "What should I tell him?" panics Abby. "[To] do the best he can," Luka replies, harried.
So Abby bursts back into Adam's room and relays the bad news to Carter, who decides that he'll just go ahead and call for a surgeon to enter The Hot Zone and help out. "Get Romano," he intones. "I don't think they're letting...." Abby begins. "JUST GET HIM," bellows Carter. She does so. "How are things in the leper colony?" Romano asks cheerfully, just prior to being put on speakerphone. Carter yells that he needs to bring Adam upstairs for a tracheotomy. This from the man whose knickers wadded ferociously when Chen so much as broke a quasi-feverish sweat. Romano sensibly points out that transferring the patient will contaminate the entire building. He neglects to point out that the whole thing is more or less fucked already. "Why don't you come down here yourself?" Carter sasses. Romano wishes he could, but without his tights and logo t-shirt, he lacks the strength to move the elevator himself. Carter decides to screw it all and fill the void with just his wits, snazzy goggles, and a scalpel. He tells Abby to prep the neck. "You said a surgeon has to do this," Robin bleats. "I started out in surgery," Carter says. Robin doesn't like the sound of that. Abby loyally reassures Robin, "It means Dr. Carter can do this."
Jerry tries to distribute a case of soda to the enraged throng. "Dammit, people, we're not animals," he yells ineffectually. Ill-Tempered Scamp #12 complains of the odor and begs to open a window. Apparently, I misidentified him -- he's actually Irretrievably Stupid Ill-Tempered Scamp #436. Susan sprints through the ER, detained briefly by a woman who bitches that she can only drink diet soda and they didn't provide any of that. "A little sugar's not going to kill you," sighs Susan. Unless you're a diabetic, maybe, but Susan's far too busy exploring her own anus to think about such things.